I’m starting this late, just because I got distracted by the internet. That’s my only excuse.
I started late this morning, too. We went to L’Arc de Triomphe today. I can’t believe it took us a week to see something so monumental. Truthfully, though, maybe I’ve just seen too many pictures of it or something, but I wasn’t too impressed. It’s huge, and distracts drivers at a busy intersection that gets so many accidents that there’s a rule that all damages are split equally, no matter who’s fault it is.
Napoleon built it as a way of impressing people and showing everyone how great he was. That, and the “photoshopped” paintings in the Louvre, and the hand in the jacket thing he did all make me think he’s trying to compensate for something. My high school history teacher would say it’s because he’s short. But although the guy was indeed a guy and was by no means perfect (he crowned himself emperor and even he thought it was tacky so he got someone to paint the pope doing it instead, if I remember correctly), he did a lot for France. I’m reminded about how Hitler did a lot for Germany, but Napoleon managed it without widespread brainwashing and genocide. Good for him.
From L’Arc de Triomphe, Sarah and I made our way down Champs-Élysées, looking in stores that seemed interesting and pretending in our heads that we were rich. (Okay, that last bit might’ve just been me.) I got lost in the Louis Vuitton store that had clothes so beautiful and expensive that if I owned any of them, I’d probably never wear them outside of my own home. Even though I had wind-messed hair, a boring outfit, and the only brand name I had on me was Converse, the sales people were still nice to me and let me continue my silent make-believe. They should all get raises.
Sarah looked in the Disney store which was so crowded and full of annoyingly catchy songs that I had to leave multiple times while waiting for her. Then we popped into a store I’d never heard of before. It had nickel-free jewellery. If you look at my Outfit posts, you might have noticed that I don’t wear jewellery very often. That’s because I’m either too allergic or too poor for nearly all the jewellery commonly found in stores. So when I find a place with something pretty that I’m not allergic to, I go a little wild.
We kept shopping until lunch, then had lunch in a sort of deli/smoothie bar/patisserie thing in a mall which was delicious. We also got a couple of macarons each and then we were off to a pre-booked wine tasting.
At this point, I was wearing some new nickel-free earrings and was feeling pretty fancy already, so a wine tasting didn’t hurt. A guy with a California-sounding accent showed us how to be as pretentious as possible and still be able to justify it, and we had three glasses of wine. Apparently, it was the first time Sarah’s tried red wine. I wish I’d known before she tried it because I would’ve loved to have seen her reaction. After a good white wine and a good rosé wine, which she’s tried before, that red would’ve been like a punch in the face.
I suppose it says a lot about me that I want to see a friend receive the wine-version of a face punch.
After the wine tasting, we continued shopping. We haven’t really done much shopping for anything besides postcards and food before today, so I guess I made up for the whole week in one go. It was very worth it.
And then we stopped for the absolute worst dining experience we’ve had in Paris so far.
To start with, their toilet did not have a toilet seat. The bread in the bread basket was stale. The escargots were cold, undercooked, and the butter hadn’t fully melted. Sarah’s crêpe was chewy. My crème brûlée was burnt. Yes, the brûlée was brûlée-d. It was black. It tasted burnt. In case you weren’t sure what crème brûlée is, this is what it’s supposed to look like:
And this is what mine looked like:
It’s not the first time I’ve had crème brûlée. It’s not even the first time I’ve had it in Paris. Hell, I’ve even brûlée-d some before! (Perfectly, I might add.) This is the most burnt-looking (and tasting) crème brûlée I’ver ever had. and when I tried to point it out to our waiter in french, (“It’s too cooked. It’s black. It’s supposed to be brown.”) she told me “It’s crème brûlée. That’s what it does.”
Thanks, lady.
She also broke a beer bottle on the floor and cleaned most of it up. Sarah tried to point out some that she missed. Apparently, it didn’t go very well.
Anyway, I would tell you the name of the restaurant but I don’t know if that would leave me open for possible suing. So instead I’ll just suggest that you check for toilet seats in any restaurant you go to.
After that, we went to get more macarons because we already finished the ones we got earlier and I wanted to get the bitter taste of burnt sugar out of my mouth. We then retired to our room and I am once again typing away in the early hours of the morning to finish my blog post.
Precarious Writer 
